


Now That's Just Wrong

by witchway



Series: I'll Kiss Your Tears Away [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: College Student Peter Parker, Daddy Kink, M/M, Peter has a daddy kink, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Will Do Anything For Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchway/pseuds/witchway
Summary: “Sorry, I knew that, but you taste so damn good.  I’ll do better next time.”Peter broke into a huge grin.“There’ll be a next time?” he said, hopefully, and in that moment Tony realized that yes, there would be.





	1. Sex

**Author's Note:**

> This happens sometime after Noises and Interpretations
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642156
> 
> Especially for those who enjoyed Chapter 5.

Tony was sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper, when he walked in, decidedly NOT ready for bed.

Tony didn’t scold, only gave him the side-eye. Or in this case, the over-the-paper-eye.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Little Petie?”

“I can’t sleep,” came the reply, followed by a pout.

Tony eyed his complete lack of pajamas. “Have you…tried?”

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Tony never put down his newspaper. “How is my bed better than your bed?”

“Just for a little while?”

No response, just a raised eyebrow.

“And could you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Tony admitted defeat and folded the paper. “And I suppose I should rub your back like I used to, when you were little?”

Peter managed to smile, and pout, all at the same time. 

Tony stood and walked right up to the teenager, now half a head shorter than him, and gave him (what he hoped were) his best “go to bed mister” eyes.

“And should I carry you to bed, too?”

The pout went away and there was nothing left but the smile.

Which is why Tony picked up Petie and carried him, bride-like, into the next room.

“You’re ridiculous,” the man muttered on the way there.

“You’re the one who picked me up.”

“And why is Daddy’s bed better than yours?”

“Because it has Daddy in it.”

“Nope. Daddy still has work to do, and it’s passed YOUR bedtime already.”

Cut the pout again.

He placed Petie on his feet and pulled the covers back. He even helped Peter undress until he climbed in, clad only in his boxers, and tucked the covers up under his chin.

“Rub my back until I fall asleep,” Petie asked, all eyes. Tony sat by the side of the bed and stroked his head instead. 

“As soon as you go to sleep, I’m gone.”

“No…Daddy…stay with me after that.”

“You’ll be asleep, you won’t know.”

“I’ll know. I’ll have bad dreams. Stay with me.”

“Do you want a bedtime story?”

Suddenly Peter was all grins – so much so Tony had to work at keeping his stony face. He even turned away as he toed off his shoes, dropped his pants. He missed Petie’s delighted look because he had sat down to take off his socks before climbing into bed. He clambered over Peter to lay on Peter’s right side. That way he could wrap his left arm around the boy and, propped up on his left elbow, he began.

“Once upon a time there were 3 little pigs. The first pig wanted to build a house of straw, despite the fact that it would become waterlogged in the rain and began to rot which means it would stink immediately, but at least this would drive away any unwanted visitors. The second pig wanted to build his house out of sticks which when properly bound together can in fact become quite sturdy as we learn in another Aesop’s fable that would seem to contradict this one – perhaps the difficulty is in the binding of the sticks not the sticks as building materials themselves. The third little pig chose to make his house of bricks however he did NOT obtain them for free from some random passing-by Brick Man because this is not some socialist dystopia where farm animals can obtain bricks for free. No, he got an honest job and bought the bricks with his hard-earned money and then proceeded to build his brick house and when the Big Bad Wolf arrived the little pig was now a fully grown farm pig and proceeded to trample the wolf to death because a full grown male pig outweighs a wolf by a factor of 3. Minimum.”

Peter giggled helplessly. He tried not to, even pressing his face into Tony’s shirt to try to suppress the giggles, but in the end it was a lost cause.

“But you left out the GOOD part,” he said FINALLY, after several attempts at catching his breath. He was very, very nervous.

Tony said nothing, suppressing a smile himself.

“He’s supposed to say, “I’m going to eat you up because you …. are….so….delicious.”

“Is that what he’s supposed to say, baby?” Tony asked, giving the boy a long, open-mouthed kiss on the head.

“Yes, Daddy.”

There was a long pause, as neither man knew what to say.

The Peter reached up and caressed Tony’s shirt. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He took Tony’s hand and put it on the center of his chest, and Tony began rubbing in a straight line, up to his collar bone, and then down again.

“I won’t be able to sleep, Daddy,” Peter said finally. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Tony asked in a whisper.

“The boys at school make fun of me, they say….” Peter swallowed hard. The nerves were NOT helping, so he took a few deep, calming breaths and decided not to worry so much. 

He didn’t _have_ to make a lot of sense right now.

“They say I don’t look right – they say my body doesn’t look like theirs….”

When Tony didn’t reply correctly, Peter prompted “They say I don’t have enough _hair_….”

“That’s ridiculous Kid….baby. What does that even mean?”

Peter looked up into Tony’s face with (what he hoped was) his best ‘innocent’ look.

“Down here,” he whispered, pulling his boxers down, just a bit, to reveal what was below his treasure line. 

Tony smirked, then copied the boy’s motion, lowering his boxers as well. “You have as much as I do, Babyboy.”

“No, you have more.”

Tony said some gentle things, moving his hand up to stroke Peter’s chest again, murmuring things about bodies and differences and changes and time. Peter tried to relax under the touch, but there was still a lot more to be said, which mean he couldn’t relax at all, so he tried again.

“But I don’t think I look right. I _never_ think I look right. I look all _wrong_.” He was whispering. He didn’t want to speak out loud. He didn’t want his voice to break on _this_ part.

“What are you talking about, sweet baby?”

“It just always looks _wrong_ to me, whenever I look.”

Tony rolled over onto Peter to reach to the lamp, which he turned off, leaving Peter confused and in the dark.

“Yeah…well…I know how that feels. So you know what I did?”

Suddenly, and much to Peter’s surprise, Tony sat up and shrugged out of his shirt.

**_“I just stopped looking,”_** he said, and pulled a flabbergasted Peter into his arms and held him against his bare chest.

Peter’s moans of surprise and gratitude were the only sounds in the dark, silent room and for a moment both men forgot about everything. Tony held on silently while Peter kissed along his neck and shoulder, moaning again when Tony called out “FRIDAY, increase light by 10%. He called that out twice more before he was satisfied, and there in the dim he looked down at Peter who looked up at him in surprise, breathless. Finally he pressed one hand against the unshaven face, eyes full of emotion.

But there were other things they were supposed to be doing, so Tony finally took Peter’s hand away from his face, went back to rubbing Peter’s narrow chest in the same up-and-down motion, and whispered

“Do you have trouble falling asleep, baby boy?

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Do you want to know a secret?”

Petie looked up with those innocent eyes again. “What, Daddy?”

“It’s a grown-up secret. It’s what grownups do when they want to fall asleep.”

“What, Daddy?”

“It’s a secret – you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell.”

And with that, Tony ran his hand down Peter’s arm and, taking the boy’s hand in his, guided it under the boy’s boxers and wrapped it around his awakening cock.

“……Daddy?”

“Shhhhhh……don’t worry, Babyboy, Daddy’s got you. No one has to know.”

Peter groaned (mostly in relief) and turned his head to hide in Tony’s chest, reveling in that rare skin-to-skin contact. He let Tony’s hand move his hand, relaxing completely, giving up control.

They were quiet for quite a while, with only a few “Daddy’s” and “I’m here baby’s” and Peter’s labored breath.

Peter could have come that way, but there was something else to do, and so Tony took his hand away despite Peter’s mewling and pleadings. He held the boy close (shit, he almost forgot, and let the boy get too far) and stroked the boy’s hair, shushing him until it seemed safe to go on.

“Do you trust me, Babyboy?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

“I’m not leaving, hey, hey, I’m not leaving…..” Tony said, chuckling in disbelief when Peter seemed to panic when he rose. The boy knew about his part, why was he so surprised? (Still, he reveled in the way Peter hid in his chest as soon as he lay back down. Probably more than he should.)

“Do you trust me, Petie baby?” he asked again, holding his hand out of sight.

“Yes Daddy.”

“Then close your eyes.”

Dammit, he was supposed to take Peter’s boxers down first, which he had to do now with his unslicked hand. But he made it work (even though he had to completely dislodge the covers in the process, which left them both completely naked on top of the bed, not exactly the plan but he had to make due) and then, with Petie’s eyes ridiculously scrunched closed, Tony spread Peter’s legs apart at the knee and placed his slicked finger at the boy’s opening. 

He placed his mouth next to Peter’s ear and murmured “Put your arms around my neck, Babyboy.” When Peter complied he gently pressed the finger to.

“Shhhhhh….. I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you. Daddy’s good boy, Daddy’s sweet, sweet boy.”

Peter whimpered (but his body relaxed immediately) and Tony moved inside him with sure, even strokes before gently shaking the boy’s arms off and moving downward. 

“Does it hurt, baby boy?”

“Oh Daddy it aches so bad…”

“Then let me kiss it and make it better.” Tony was barely done with the words before he was pressing his mouth to Peter’s shaft, kissing upward, treasuring every sound that it produced. Peter was so far gone – as soon as he put his mouth on the boy Tony new it wouldn’t last much longer, so he took his time with this part. He tasted salty skin and sucked kisses into the heated flesh, trying not to smile as Peter whimpered and moaned, longing for more and completely unable to ASK for it. But this was Peter’s game, and these were Peter’s rules, and if Tony took MORE time than usual mouthing his scrotum well who’s fault was that? 

Finally he took pity on his lover and came back, kissing Peter on both eyes, then on his nose, then finally on his mouth. Then, keeping the steady pace he added a second finger, then a slight turn, watching Peter’s face closely.

“Daddy’s boy, Daddy’s beautiful boy,” he murmured, sometimes kissing the face and the slack mouth, but mostly watching, cataloging every reaction, enjoying this leisurely pace, this luxurious amount of time he could spend _watching_. Normally Peter would never let this part go on this long.

“It feels so good Daddy.”

“It’s supposed to feel good, baby. Daddy wants you to feel good.” 

But now Peter was making noises Tony wasn’t sure he had ever heard before and, overcome with the sudden need to _taste_, he ducked down, sucked Peter’s entire length into his mouth and began his administrations. 

“Oh Daddy, oh it’s _happening_….” Petie was gasping and then he was crying out (screaming, really, dear god he sounded like he was being murdered) and Tony would have liked to say something appropriate but his mouth was full at the time.


	2. Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter began to giggle. “You were supposed to make the bedtime story sexy, not funny.”
> 
> Tony brushed that off with a kiss on the forehead. “I made it about Capitalism. Capitalism is sexy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's lecture on crying/instructions on what to do can be found in Noises And Interpretations.

Peter cried afterwards, which Tony was not expecting, but had been instructed on in the past. He pulled the boy close and held him tightly, rubbing his back and, when the crying continued, singing. 

That was usually enough, but tonight was different. Peter was sobbing, making broken, ugly noises that Tony hadn’t heard since the Bus vs Queensboro Bridge vs Icy Water incident, when Tony had tried to explain that Spiderman and the Sentinels had done a _good_ thing, and saved _lots_ of lives, but no amount of heroics could save the poor souls who had no chance of surviving the drop, and that finding and rescuing the bodies from the freezing channel was a sad but important part of a hero’s job.

Peter had cried _that_ night, but not like _this_.

But Tony hung on doggedly, trying to remember all the parts to the “crying releases endorphins” lecture Peter had delivered on more than one occasion, softly singing his way through the through his favorite Black Sabbath songs one at a time.

In time the boy quieted, but said nothing, and the silence left Tony feeling unexpectedly lonely (and a little alarmed.)

He pulled away enough to caress the boy’s face and whispered “Come back to me, come back to me Peter.”

Peter turned his head and blinked, like a man coming out of a trance, and looked at Tony in surprise.

“You….you didn’t have to stop.”

“Uh… kinda did. You were pretty far gone and you looked like you needed a break. 

“**_God_**, kid, usually you don’t make that noise without me pushing your head into the bed and taking you from behind in that crouching position. What was that? I’ve fingered you while going down on you before…”

“No…you did something different. I think that was a different angle or something…”

Or you were in a different head-space, Tony thought ruefully. There was no doubt about it, this Daddy/Babyboy game that he had dutifully agreed to play had definitely been a huge turnon. For Peter. 

But then Peter sighed and broke out in a huge grin and Tony saw something on the boy’s face he hadn’t seen since the Queensboro Bridge – relief.

“Oh _god_, coming like that, knowing you would be there to hold me and being in your arms, I can’t tell you how _good_ that felt, knowing I’d be in your arms and I could _let go_. Only…” he began to whisper, “I kind of ….wanted to come with you holding me, keeping your head next to mine and talking me through it, you know, saying ‘Daddy’s got you….’ and stuff.”

“Sorry, I knew that, but you taste so damn good. I’ll do better next time.”

Peter broke into a huge grin.

“There’ll be a next time?” he said, hopefully, and in that moment Tony realized that yes, there would be. While he had pushed through all his misgivings (what Peter called the ‘squick factor’) in order to do this one thing (because that’s what Good Boyfriends did) he realized now that if this were the reaction… this look of bliss and relief…it would all be worth it. Peter’s needs were important to him, and this was clearly meeting a need. 

“I mean….it was ok?” Peter said, looking suddenly concerned with Tony’s silence. He touched the other man’s face. “You looked a little freaked out sometimes.”

“It was different,” Tony lied well, then made the quick decision to throw a little truth in. “You let me finger you forever, I liked that. I liked knowing I can take my time – Peter doesn’t always let me, but Babyboy doesn’t really have a choice." 

“Yeah.” That look of complete relief again. “It _is_ different, letting you do whatever you want, and what you want is…..hot. And knowing I can trust you completely. I mean I do trust you, but trusting _you like this_ is different. It’s like opening up like a Russian Nesting Doll – you’re getting all the parts, and you’re treating them all so well. I get so _vulnerable_, and you’re strong and in control….

“Exactly.”

Tony sat up a bit that it surprised Peter, but he spoke anyway. He had done a few quick calculations –changing his original plan (to politely bow out the next time Peter had asked for this game) because now that he was _actually_ considering doing it again…

“So some things are **_not_** going to work. I draw the line at punishment,” he said very softly, cupping one asscheek gently, knowing he was going back on something he had already agreed to. “I mean, spanking you will just break my hand…”

He tried to laugh, but Peter was watching him very seriously, and so he decided to stick with the truth.

“And fucking-as-punishment is **_out_**. There will be no ‘this is a punishment for letting the other boy…” he felt his stomach turn and left the rest of the sentence out. “Sex is only to make Little Petie feel good, nothing else.”

Peter agreed without comment, much to Tony’s relief. Conversations about the feelings that rose up in him with the word ‘Daddy,’ an abominable name Tony had **NEVER** allowed any other lover to invoke, well, those conversations could be had later.

“Yeah, this was so much better. God, so much better than I even thought it would be…..Tony the _things_ you said. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

Tony pulled Peter close in hopes Peter wouldn’t see the relief on his face. He felt like a man who had dodged a bullet. Some of the things Peter had described to him – well – he wasn’t good admitting there were some things beyond him – in fact he _never_ admitted that. But in that tender space they had managed to create (he was still marveling at it - after one try!) some of those things Peter had first suggested just seemed beyond obscene. 

Peter began to giggle. “You were supposed to make the bedtime story sexy, not funny.”

Tony brushed that off with a kiss on the forehead. “I made it about Capitalism. Capitalism is sexy.” 

“Do you want a shower?” Tony asked reluctantly after they had been silent for a while. This moment was perfect and he didn’t want it to end.

Peter looked down at him and grinned. “You never got taken care of.”

Tony gave him a half-grin. He had achieved something tonight with the boy that no one had done before. He was satisfied. Anything else that happened after this was gravy.

“Everything we did was ok?” Peter asked again, which made Tony huff in irritation – he thought he had made himself clear. 

But perhaps the constant reassurance was part of the package?

“You needed a good cry, you needed to let some things out, and you did, and that was good for you. And it was a hell of a lot easier on my knees than the other way,” he groused (although none of that was true. But he was being a good lover now, and he was proud of it.)

“But does it turn _you_ on?” Peter was demanding, pushing Tony onto his back.

“It makes you happy and that’s all I need…..hmmm…..” he moaned appreciatively as Peter positioned him with his back on the bed, then straddled him. “…..can I call _you_ daddy now?”

Peter giggled, and then smiled from ear to ear. And that's when Tony realized he could answer the question with complete honesty. 

“It does turn me on,” he said, suddenly kissing that smile, kissing that relaxed and happy face he hadn’t seen in so long. All the worried lines his young lover had worn up for over a month now were gone, and Tony realized he would do anything, anything at all, to know he could make Peter feel this good afterward.

Soon Peter was rubbing his body along Tony’s erection, making him hard again, kissing his face over and over. “I don’t care what you call me, as long as you are inside me,” he was saying, and then he gave Tony that beautiful, happy grin again.

“Truth is, I don’t listen to 50% of what comes out of your mouth.”

“Liar, you noticed I was calling myself daddy before *I* realized it”

“You were calling me baby too – the first night I told you we were going to hook up and we argued and you kicked me out. I smiled all the way back to my dormroom. Because you were calling me ‘baby’ the whole time and you didn’t even know….”

Tony interrupted that sentence – there were some insights in there he really didn’t want to discuss right now so he made Peter concentrate on his tongue instead. 

There was something someone should say – something about how Tony had spent 20 years abhorring that obscene word in bed and never tolerating it at all – until he had got Peter naked – and that, somehow represented a major failure on his part because if he had never gotten Peter naked they would never had even had this conversation.

But keeping Peter partially clothed didn’t help – he tried to do that, to fuck Peter on countertops and in hallways making sure it stayed casual - but then Peter sent him a multi-paragraph text message demanding more. And what Peter asked for, Peter got.

Maybe this was a conversation of some importance, but maybe no one would start it if Tony slipped his cock inside Peter’s body without interrupting the kiss and then put his hands on the boy’s waist, the way the boy liked it, and kept him distracted.

Peter finally pulled away for air, whimpering and kissing Tony’s face, neck and shoulders while Tony fucked vigorously into him. “Oh God Tony, he was moaning, running his hands lovingly over Tony’s bare torso, something he had never been allowed to do until this moment. “You took…”

“Don’tbabydon’t I don’t want to stop” Tony gasped, hoping Peter would assume he meant his energetic upward motion, and not ‘stop to think about the fact that I’m shirtless right now.’” Peter obediently stopped talking and went back to kissing his face, neck and shoulder. 

“Oh God Tony, I love…..

".....I love the way this feels,” Peter gasped, happy he had caught himself in time. Hoping Tony wouldn’t notice.

Tony noticed. 

Tony noticed everything.

They moved together silently for a time, but then Peter’s face hardened in concentration, and Tony released his grip and let the young man position himself to his liking.

With both hands firmly on Tony’s abdomen, one leg went straight out, toes pointed (Tony enjoyed the sight) as Peter’s eyes went unfocused and he tried to hold his body _just so_. Then the hands went to the bed and the other leg went out until Peter was holding his weight completely on his hands and Tony’s cock. Oh God, the _last_ time Peter started pulling these ballerina moves Tony had two feet hovering next to his ears and he thought he was going to lose his mind.

“Is that what you call the other boys – do the other boys ask you to call them that when they’re fucking you?” Tony asked, hating himself even as he said it. It was so _naked_, such an obvious ploy to feel like he was in control again.

Peter rolled his eyes, but at least he put his ballerina feet down for a moment. “No…its…..mostly ‘buddy’ and ‘guy’ … a lot of them are from Canada remember….” (He was making it up. He had told Tony every detail of the boys that had came before and there were no more sense, so he felt liberated to just invented them on the spot.)

“What about the art majors?”

“To**_ny_**, I told you, I forgot which art major I did it with and now I’m **_way_** too embarrassed to ask! Ah God….”

Peter tried to raise his legs again and was startled when Tony cried out “Stopstopstop” and pulled out, grabbing Peter by the waist and rolling them over. Peter blinked, startled that **_that_** conversation was over (it tended to go on a while) allowed the older man to kiss him while they caught their breath, and then reposition him on the bed and enter him one more time.

Now Tony had them in the original position Peter had described to him earlier, with Tony on top, Peter facing him, with his legs wrapped around Tony’s waist. Tony had willing agreed to _this_ part. Moving inside his young lover slowly and gently was not something they did often, and it was something he realized he wanted more than anything else.

Tony had been in multiple positions with multiple people for multiple decades, but recently he found, when he thought of Peter, he found himself craving _this_. 

These moments, when he wasn’t verbally bantering or trying to establish control, when Peter was touching and kissing his face over and over again and telling him how good he felt, these moments were soft and tender.

These were the kinds of moments when a man thought he could lay his mouth next to another man’s ear and whisper “I love you.”

Someday, if given enough moments, he’d get up the nerve to do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done.
> 
> Why not leave a comment? It's absurd how often comments lead to MORE fic.

**Author's Note:**

> You've come this far - why not leave a comment?
> 
> A <3 or : ) will suffice.


End file.
